Welcome To My New Life
by Little Lunatic Lisa
Summary: When Spencer moves from Cambridge, Ohio to Los Angeles, California, with a dark past, she's determined to fit in with the rest of the crowd. But what happens when you just can't seem to do that? Who is going to be there for her when she finally breaks?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

I sighed as I sat in the car, riding along with my older brother Glenn and my parents. I rested my head against the cool glass of the passenger's side window. I watched glumly as we drove onwards, passing nothing but busy streets or deserted country roads. My family was moving from our small hometown of Cambridge, Ohio to the ever-popular Los Angeles, California. We had been driving for a few days now, and everyone, no doubt, had started to get restless.

I kept trying to tell myself that this move was going to be good for me, and good for everyone else who was involved. This was a chance for me to start over, and for all of us to have a fresh new beginning. Things hadn't exactly been going as planned for the past two years. Ever since I'd started my freshman year of high school, things had seemed to be going downhill. It wasn't until everything spiraled completely out of control that my parents had even begun to think about relocating our family to someplace new.

Towards the beginning of my freshman year, I came home sick from school one day to find my father, someone who I had originally looked up to and admired, sprawled across the dining room table with one of his co-workers. My mother and two older brothers weren't home at the time, and my father and I wound up having a talk that I, quite frankly was not in the mood for. I had been sent home from school with the stomach flu, and the very sight of them together on the kitchen table wanted me to hurl again. It would've been bad enough to see him and my mother going at it in the kitchen, let alone find out that he was cheating on my mother.

He had begged me not to rat him out, and I had agreed to it. I mean, why wouldn't I have? Do you honestly think that my mother would've believed me if I had tried to tell her. She was the one who was seemingly oblivious to everything. She thought life was just peachy, and that nothing could go wrong. Boy, was she ever wrong.

The next rough patch was hit when my parents discovered that my older brother Glenn had been using the painkillers that he takes for his knee as a recreational drug. He was a major basketball star back at Cambridge High School, and basically, the entire student body looked up to him. He is the point guard, after all. While all of the girls were either fawning over him or throwing themselves at him, all of the other guys, jocks and nerds alike, were impressed with his impeccable skills and wanted to be just like him. To them, Glenn Carlin served as a role model. Some role model.

My parents got him into counseling and started monitoring him more closely. He does fairly well now, but since they've begun to notice that, the guard has been let down little by little, and I know for a fact that he's been known to slip up again a few times here and there. I only know this because I've seen him do it. No matter how many times he's tried to fully quit, it just doesn't seem as though it's possible. He's simply just hooked. My brother, the basketball star. He's addicted to getting high off of painkillers.

My whole family should've known that after three strikes, we should have been out of there. As in, left Cambridge, Ohio completely in the dust. Unfortunately, my parents don't know how to take a hint. When I was in my sophomore year of high school and Glenn was in his junior year, some idiot had decided to bring a gun to school. Once an administrator had found out about it, the school was pronounced to be in lockdown. It had happened right in between class periods, and everyone was in the hallways at the time. When the warning had come on over the P.A. system, students were frantically ushered into classrooms, regardless of where they were actually supposed to be at the time. I remember that I wound up sitting in some teacher's classroom that I had never known before, around all of these people that I was unfamiliar with. I'm pretty sure that it was a classroom meant for seniors.

Anyways, we remained in lockdown for about four or five hours. Everyone had been called. Police officers, alongside their bomb-sniffing dogs, firefighters, and ambulances. Students were frantically trying to call their parents on their cell phones, but most of the time, that didn't go over so well. The teachers eventually ended up gaining possession of most of the ones in the classroom, remarking simply that, "it was not advisable for us to use our cell phones at this given time". I'm not quite sure what would've been considered as a better time. I certainly couldn't have made a phone call to my family after I was dead.

Dead…that's what the doctors told my parents, my older brother, and me when the lockdown was over, and we were able to make it to the hospital. My other older brother, Clay, a senior, was dead. The gunman had shot and killed him, along with six others. He also wounded about twenty others, but they had somehow managed to escape with minor gunshot wounds. My adopted older brother was 17 years old at the time. He never quite got the chance to graduate from high school.

Clay was a wonderful brother, son, and friend to all. He had that type of quality where he was nice to everyone, at least until someone gave him a reason not to be. Most of the other kids' whose siblings were killed in the riot either left school, or transferred. After a month, Glenn and I had returned. My parents had insisted upon it.

I became one of the main gossip factors of my high school's hallway. I wasn't just paranoid, trust me. I heard the whispers flying around from every direction. "There's that girl whose brother got killed…you know, in the shooting," they'd tell one another. I absolutely hated it. I despised being the center of attention. It really bothered me beyond all belief. I had been very close to my brother, and I was strongly devastated by the painful loss. His girlfriend at the time was not doing much better, to say the least.

Then, at the beginning of this summer, I found out that my father lost his job. We should have seen it coming. The US economy has been consistently spiraling downwards. Once he got laid off from work, he also lost his little fuck buddy from the office as well. She too had lost her job, and was spending a good portion of her time with her own family, because otherwise, they would have gotten suspicious. I guess that's just how it goes. What happens at the office, stays at the office. Poor dad. Not.

After learning that he had lost his job, my father had sunken into this deep sort of depression that involved drinking lots of alcohol whenever possible. Whenever he was sober, my father was fine. When he was drunk off of his ass, however, now that was a different story. The littlest things seemed to upset him or set him off, so you had to be very careful around him when he was in one of his moods like that. If you weren't, you might end up getting pulled by the hair, slapped across the face, or pushed up against a wall. Any one of these things qualified as unfortunate. My mother didn't appear to be any help. She just gently told us that our father was having a rough time because of being out of work, and that we should try not to upset him so much. "You know how he gets," she'd say.

Because he lost his job, my mother at least did the right thing in making him get back up off of his ass and start looking for a new job. As it turns out, there was one available…in Los Angeles, California, as a matter of fact. However, his desire for excessive amounts of alcohol seemed to stick with him. He had always enjoyed having a drink or two every now and then, but once he'd started drinking heavily, he just couldn't seem to stop. And Glenn and I hated it. My mother, on the other hand, as usual, remained completely oblivious to the world around her. For some reason, whenever my father was angry, he always either hit me or my older brother. But he never dared to lay a hand on our precious mother.

Needless to say, all of this drama led to me not being able to eat or sleep very properly. The only thing that hadn't started to suffer, surprisingly, were my grades. Probably because whenever my father was drunk, or I was depressed about missing Clay, I just shut myself out from the rest of the world. I holed up in my room and worked diligently on my schoolwork. I literally forced myself to study. If I kept busy, then things weren't always as bad as they'd seemed. If I kept my mind of something else and worked hard, then I didn't cut myself, and I didn't become so upset that I would throw up whatever I'd eaten earlier that day. I was so upset that I was probably causing myself to become anorexic, and not by choice. I also discovered that there was the possibility that I'd turned into a downright insomniac. There was no doubt about it. I was a complete and total mess. Actually, I think that we all were.

That's why, when my parents had announced our move, I was actually somewhat happy. Glenn had thrown a fit about not being able to play on the same basketball team in the fall, and I was a little upset by the prospect of leaving the few friends that I actually had left. But that was it. Overall, we viewed this move as beneficial for all parties who were involved.

I made up my mind right then and there. I started viewing this little adventure as a new opportunity for myself. I could start over at a new school, and maybe make some new friends. Or then again, maybe not. I'd started preferring to be on my own and independent. I didn't hang out with people as often, because I didn't need them getting wrapped up in all of my drama. Honestly now, who would want to put someone else through hell and back again? I was far better off just keeping to myself.

But here, in Los Angeles, California, nobody knew me as "that's the girl whose brother died in the gun shooting." They didn't even know who I was at all. They didn't have any information about my name or my appearance. They knew that a gun shooting had occurred. The names of the people who were killed in the riot weren't released on the news. Everyone who had been shot was under the age of 18. This made them minors, and parents didn't need the whole world knowing about their problems. Mostly, they just kept to themselves and grieved silently.

Now that I would be starting out in a completely new environment, everything was bound to get better…wasn't it? I mean, I couldn't possibly imagine anything possibly getting any worse. That was my motivation. That was my newly adopted way of looking at things. No one in Los Angeles would know about mine and my family's past. I was determined to walk the neighborhood and the hallways of my new school with my head firmly planted on my shoulders. I would have that instant fake smile constantly pasted across my face. I would just simply appear as though nothing was wrong. I would become a great pretender of sorts. It was the only way that I knew how to deal with all of the emotional and physical pain that I was feeling.

Besides, my mother had decided to make an honest effort out of this move. Once we got settled in, she claimed to promise that we would get family counseling and grief counseling. My father would be subject to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, and for my brother, drug counseling. Her and my father were also going to get some marriage counseling. Or so she claimed, at least.

My father's voice interrupted my thoughts. "We're here!" he announced cheerfully, pulling up into the driveway of a beautifully landscaped home. As I looked out the window of the car once more, I think my heart skipped a beat. Maybe this is just what my family and I needed.

There was a little bit of front garden displayed on either side of the home. The walkway leading up to the front porch was made of some sort of cobblestone. The house itself was mostly white, with some dark teal outlines around the windowpanes and the roof of the small balcony that stood on the second floor. The mailbox and our house number were elegantly placed on the house near our front door. The whole plot of land was outlined by a white picket fence. There was a big backyard with a pool out back. It looked exactly like the type of house I had always planned on owning when I got older, moved out, and got my own place.

The moving van pulled up behind us. After we opened the front door to our new home, the movers started ushering in all sorts of large pieces of furniture. Amidst all of the chaos, I went up to the second story of the house and chose my new bedroom. It was perfect…not too big, and not too small. I later discovered that it came equipped with its own walk-in closet and bathroom, which was pretty nice. Yes, I was definitely going to try and make the most of this.

After the movers had left, our family seemed to have a constant flow of visitors coming in and out of our new home for the next couple of hours. New neighbors welcomed us with casseroles, Jell-O molds, and the works. By the time I was finally able to start unpacking, it was time for dinner. By the end of the night, the only thing that had really been unpacked was my bed, just so that I could sleep in it.

For the next week and a half, all I did was unpack, unpack, and unpack. You know, just taking the time to get things into place. Once I'd finally gotten settled in, there was only one thing left to worry about. I had to swallow the gigantic lump in my throat every time that I wound up thinking about it. About the prospect of school. Not only was I the new kid in town, but I would have to face junior year without any friends, completely alone, in a high school that was huge compared to my old one. I had been told that this campus held roughly 4,000 students. Now I was going to have to face being one of them. Knowing me, I would probably get lost as well.

That night, I tossed and turned in bed as I tried desperately for sleep. When I finally fell into a restless sleep, I had nothing but terrifying nightmares, all revolving around the topic of school. I probably woke up in a cold sweat about three or four different times during the night.

"Doomed," I'd said at 4:00 in the morning, out loud to the empty room. "That's what I am…totally and completely doomed."

I stuffed a pillow over my face in an attempt to smother myself as I waited for the dawn to break.

**Author's Note:** Okay, so here's the deal. I definitely don't own the television show South of Nowhere, or it's characters. I do, however, own my storyline. Reviews, criticism, and ideas are certainly always welcome. If I use even the tiniest part of a reviewer's idea, then I make sure that I credit them in my next chapter's Author's Note. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you will continue to read. Thanks!


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

I guess I must have dozed off somewhere between 4:00 and 6:00 in the morning, because the incessant buzzing of my alarm clock definitely startled me, jump-starting my heart and helping to bring me slowly back into reality. After blinking a few times and rubbing the remaining sleep from my eyes, I reached over and turned off the blaring alarm. I struggled to sit up, and then groaned out loud, putting my face in my hands after noticing the amount of sunlight that was pouring through my window. I made a mental note to remind my mother, once again, that I needed some new curtains for my room. My original ones from home had gotten torn on the way over to California.

Forcing myself out of the safe confinement of my bed, I picked up my fuzzy white bathrobe, grabbed a pink fluffy towel from the linen closet and then went into my bathroom, closing the door behind me. If I was going to make a solid impression on the people at my new school, I knew that I would have to work hard at it. Pretending that everything was just fine and dandy in your life wasn't exactly the easiest thing in the world to do. I turned the shower water on full blast, waiting until it got warm enough for me to stand under it. While I waited, I took the time to relieve my bladder and brush my teeth.

Once I was fully in the shower, I immersed myself in the warm water as it dampened my thick blonde hair, making it cascade down my back. I lathered a shower puff with some cucumber melon shower gel and proceeded to rub the warm foam all over the contours of my body. When I was finished, I leaned back once more, allowing the water to eliminate any remaining traces of suds.

Once that was done, I poured a generous amount of cucumber melon shampoo into my right palm, and then proceeded to work it into my tresses while using both hands simultaneously. I made sure that I scrubbed the roots of my hair, and behind my ears. I turned myself around back towards the showerhead and rinsed out the remnants of shampoo from my hair.

Next, I had to use the cucumber melon conditioner. My hair was thick and wavy, and there was no way in heck that a comb, let alone a brush, was going to make it through my masses of snarls. The conditioner tended to make things go a lot more smoothly. I poured a generous helping into my palm and ran it through my hair. Once the remainder of the conditioner was washed out, I reached for my shaving cream and razor.

With the showerhead still running, I rubbed a decent amount of shaving cream onto the necessary areas that needed shaving. I carefully traced the curves and corners of my body, making sure to rid myself of any unwanted hair. I went through a final rinse off. Finally satisfied, I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower.

I took a moment to unfold my fluffy towel and dry myself off. I patted down the edges of my body, and eventually spent a great deal of time fussing with my hair so that I could get the towel placed on the top of my head. I darted back into my bedroom to look for what I wanted to wear for my first big day at my new school.

I finally decided to choose a white spaghetti strap tank top that fit my upper torso like a glove and a decent pair of blue jeans. They fit so that they hugged my hips and thighs just perfectly, but then billowed out past the knees. I found a pair of white chunky sandals to complete the look. After stepping back to check myself out in the mirror, I moved forward once more so that I could get started on my hair.

I eventually decided to make my hair wavier. I heated up my curling iron. While that was getting all set up, I went to work on my makeup. A soft pink lip gloss, a pale pink blush, and some eyeliner, mascara, and pale blue eyeshadow completed my look.

By now, the curling iron was warm enough. Carefully, so as not to burn myself, I went to work on making thick yet soft waves throughout my hair. It didn't look nearly as good as when my mother used to help me do it. Unfortunately, she was usually either sound asleep in the morning, coming off of a long, tiring, and stressful night shift at the hospital, or she had already left for work by the time everyone else in the house had woken up. Sometimes you just needed another set of hands to get the job done. But I did it anyways, the best way that I could possibly manage, considering the fact that my hands were probably shaking so much from being nervous.

Once the full look was complete, I stepped back to admire myself once more. I was proud of the hard work and effort that I had put in to getting ready for my big day. Fully satisfied, I turned on my heel and left my room to go downstairs for breakfast.

My father was just finishing flipping some pancakes and frying up some bacon when I took my place at the breakfast table, looking somewhat forlorn and unsure of myself. My dad never missed anything. Once he was finished, he turned off all of the appliances that he had been using, placed a steaming plate of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and sausage in front of me, and patted me on the shoulder.

"Nervous about your first day, huh?" he asked sympathetically.

"More like terrified," I admitted, my stomach beginning to churn suddenly as I looked down at the plate of food that had been set before more. I poked at the contents of it with my fork, pushing it around in order to make it look like I had actually eaten something. No such luck.

"Spencer, come on…you've got to eat something. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," he said in a nasally voice, which meant that he was making fun of this whole concept in an attempt to get me to laugh. After realizing that I wasn't going to eat anything that had been set before me, he chose a different route.

"How about…toast? For those with weaker stomachs?" he asked, looking at me. Immediately, I piped up and tried to show him my fake, brave smile.

"Thanks Dad, that'd be great. Sorry about…" I started to say before my father put his hand up, instantly silencing me.

"It's more than okay," he tried to reassure me. "I understand. We're all the new kids today, remember?" he commented, nudging at my shoulder a little bit.

"Right," I said, taking a deep breath and biting into the buttered toast. I chewed a few times, and then swallowed with a sigh. My father was right. The toast did feel easier on my stomach. I picked up my glass of orange juice and took a few sips.

"Now I know that you said you wanted to buy a lunch today, but I made one for you, just this once…you know, in case the hamburger patties are green, or something like that," my father said with a smile before kissing the top of my forehead. "You'd better get going before you're late. You don't want to miss the bus on your first day of school.

Groaning inwardly, I picked up my backpack. _Great Dad, like I'm not already nervous enough. Let's give me something more to worry about and get freaked out over. No biggie._ After giving him a big hug, I walked bravely out the front door and down the street to where my bus stop was supposedly located.

As the sheet in the mail had promised, the bus driver arrived promptly at 7:10 am. All of the other kids who surrounded the bus stop were either too busy still trying to wake up this morning, or too busy talking to each other to even bother looking in my direction. That was more than fine with me. It only made the image that I'd promised myself to uphold to be that much easier. I even mustered up enough confidence to smile at the driver before choosing a seat somewhere in the middle of the bus.

The bus driver must've been a fan of country music, because it was playing through the speakers the entire way to school. Everything was going just fine until the bus drove over this huge pothole in the middle of the road, causing all of us to lurch forward. I'm not exactly sure if it was the bump in the road or my nerves that hadn't been fully calmed down yet that caused my sudden wave of nausea, but either way, I was instantly screwed. The contents of my stomach flooded out of my mouth and onto the floor, not to mention that some of it had gotten on me, of course. Just my luck.

Well, if I hadn't wanted to make a spectacle of myself before, I had certainly failed now. Every single kid that was riding on that bus with me wrinkled up their nose and made a disgusted face. A good handful of them even started laughing at me. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the cool windowpane. There was nothing that I could do now until I actually got to school. I sat there, wishing desperately that a hole would open up from beneath me so that I could jump into it and disappear, becoming unnoticed once more.

Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be an option. The bus driver nicely reminded myself to check myself in with the nurse before heading off to homeroom at 7:30. I thanked him kindly, knowing full well that I wasn't going to follow through with his advice.

My mind was spinning as I walked up those big front steps to my new school. What was I going to do now? I certainly couldn't walk around school all day smelling like vomit. That was completely and totally out of the question. And then I remembered that I had my gym clothes in my backpack. Quickly locating a women's restroom, I stepped into a stall and stripped myself of my soaked garments. I even changed into my gym sneakers, just in case. I shoved the gross clothing into the bag that my gym clothes had been in, and just tossed them in the trash. There was no way in hell that I would be carrying that stuff around all day. I definitely wouldn't miss one outfit. I would get over it. And if I couldn't, then I would learn to…and fast.

Reemerging from the girls' bathroom, I tried to look as composed as I possibly could as I headed down the hallways of my new school, looking for my locker. I finally found it, and after trying to get the hang of my combination lock, fiddling with it about three or four times, I finally succeeded. I tossed everything that I didn't need into my locker, grabbed the few books that I did, and slammed the door shut, turning the lock once more. After glancing at my watch and noticing that I had less than five minutes to make it to homeroom, I sped off in what I hoped was the right direction.

I guess I must have actually been sprinting instead of walking, or just simply not watching where I was going, because I chose that moment to accidently collide with another girl who was walking in the opposite direction of me. I immediately felt remorse as soon as I slammed into her. It felt like a full body contact hit. I couldn't help but wince.

_Great move, Carlin,_ I thought to myself with a groan.

I turned around to look at who I'd just collided with. When I looked, I had to hold back a gasp. Because standing before me was just about the cutest…well, cutest angry-looking girl that I'd ever seen before in my entire life.

She had caramel colored locks, and warm chocolate brown eyes. She was probably about three inches taller than me, and very slender yet shapely. At a closer look, she was wearing a form-fitting black wife beater that ended just above her belly button, and a pair of black jeans that were tight in the hips and the thighs, but after they passed the knees, they sort of bagged out. She was wearing a pair of black sandals on her feet as well.

Instantly, my face turned bright red with embarrassment at what I'd done. Well, probably from that and the fact that she was quite possibly the most attractive girl that I'd ever seen before in my entire life.

Oh right…did I happen to mention that I'm gay? And on a scale of 1-10, this chick had to be about a 15. At least.

"Walk much?" the girl sneered angrily. "God!" she exclaimed, clearly exasperated, and then noticed that her latte was now displayed all over her black short sleeve top and expelled over a portion of the school hallway's floor."Seriously…hello…what the hell are you staring at?

I swallowed the gigantic lump that had formed in my throat, forcing it down. "I…am…so…sorry," I sputtered helplessly. "I didn't mean to…shit…uhm...here," I stammered, retrieving some tissues from my purse. "Maybe these will help a bit." I moved forwards to her.

Instead of accepting, the girl just snatched the tissues out of my hand, her voice filled with rage. "God, I'm not retarded…I can do it myself!" she remarked, patting herself down without much success. "You know, that latte cost me about a good three bucks."

"I'm really sorry," I reiterated once more, like a broken record. "I guess I should have been more careful."

"Yeah, I guess you should've been!" the girl shot back with a decent amount of force.

"It was just an accident…I'll reimburse you for your coffee, and I'll give you the money for a new shirt if the stains don't come out of that one."

"In that case, the latte cost me five bucks," she said, studying me with growing distaste.

At this point, I really wasn't quite sure what to do. I was definitely going to be late for homeroom now, so I just pulled out a five-dollar bill and handed it over to her. "Let me know about your shirt," I said helpfully. "I'd be glad to get you a new one."

"Yeah, whatever," she scoffed unhappily. "Just stay the hell out of my way if you know what's good for you." with that, she spun around on her heel and walked off in the direction of her homeroom as the first bell of the day started to ring.

_Shit. Now I'm officially late._

Still completely mortified, I rushed off helplessly, trying to find my classroom. It took me a good five minutes before I was finally sure that I was standing in front of the right door. Taking a deep breath, I put my hand on the doorknob and turned. All eyes turned to face me, including the teacher's, who was in the middle of taking attendance at the time. "Take a seat," she said in a slightly unwelcoming tone. "You're late." Yes, I wasn't mistaken. There was an extreme amount of displeasure in her voice.

"I'm sorry…" was basically all that I could muster out. "I…I'm new here and I got a little lost and…" my voice trailed off into the distance, realizing that it didn't really matter. There was no sense in pleasing this woman.

"No one cares," a voice piped up from the back of the classroom. "Just try not to trip over anyone while you try to find your way to your seat."

I sat down at my desk, even more embarrassed than I had been originally. How was it possible? Of all of the possible homerooms to be in, why did I have to be in one with the angry girl that I spilled coffee over? Why…just…why? With that, I folded my arms on top of my desk and buried my face into them. This day couldn't possibly get any worse…or could it?

When the bell sounded to end homeroom period, I took a quick glance at my schedule, noticing that I had a history class next. I walked off in what I believed to be the right direction. To my dismay, the girl that I had trampled earlier was only footsteps ahead.

Instantly, she caught on. She stopped and whirled around, nearly causing me to crash into her again.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, stalking me?" she asked, her eyes flashing with anger.

"No I uhm…actually, I think that my history class is down this hallway." I sputtered, not completely sure of how to respond to the tone of her voice.

"Are you sure?" she asked snottily. "Because you sure weren't headed in the right direction for homeroom this morning," she shot back.

I sighed, and trailed her down to the end of the hallway. "Mr. Pearson, Global History, Room 101," I stated, somewhat proud of myself. "Well, well….what do you know?" I shot her a knowing glance as I brushed passed her and walked into the classroom before she did.

Mr. Pearson introduced himself to our class, and went through the normal attendance routine. "I would like all of you to know that I seat all of my students alphabetically," he stated. He had all of us move to the back of the classroom and start filling in the rows of desks correctly this time so that he could make a seating chart that was suitable to his needs. It was now that I paid attention to the other girl's name…it was Ashley Davies. That being said, I couldn't really avoid it. Since I was Spencer Carlin, of course, fate had landed me right in the chair next to hers. This was going to be a long year in history class, I could tell already. Ashley looked just as displeased as I felt.

Things only got worse throughout the course of the day. All of the teacher here seemed to be big on alphabetical seating, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, Ashley appeared to be in all of my classes thus far. Needless to say, I was becoming very frustrated. And I was normally the type of girl who wasn't afraid to stick up for herself…so I couldn't understand why I wasn't able to do that now. Maybe the fact that she was so gorgeous was too intimidating for me.

I sighed, pondering my thoughts as I walked the halls looking somewhat like a little lost puppy dog, trying desperately to find the school cafeteria before the lunch period was over. Eventually, I took the hint of following the largest mass of students that I could find and follow them. Jesus Christ…maybe Ashley Davies is right…maybe I do have the potential to be a stalker!

So anyways, I found the right lunch line without much trouble, loaded up my tray with food, and then paid the cashier once I reached the front of the line. Being in the cafeteria made me feel like a more normal high school students. Maybe lunchtime was the same in every cafeteria, because everything seemed to be going pretty smoothly. Just a few nudges here and there from the students who wanted to cut in line, nothing too major, nothing uncommon. Picking up my tray and walking off, I felt more sure of myself, and a heck of a lot more calm than I originally had.

And then that's when I noticed it. As my eyes examined the sea of students in the lunchroom, I slowly began to realize that I wouldn't fit in here. Everyone else was already sitting with their friends, and there didn't appear to be any room for me to sit, except next to Ashley Davies, and I knew better than to make that mistake. If I can be so destructive of one latte, I can only imagine what could happen to her entire lunch. I was just about to throw out my tray of food (as it turns out, the hamburger patty actually was a very unattractive green color), when a voice called out to me.

"Hey!" it called out.

I turned around to face a slender African American girl. "Hi?" I said, stupidly.

"Do you want to sit down?" she asked me.

I shot her a grateful smile. "Thanks!" I said, tossing out my tray of food and coming over to sit down across from her, unloading my bagged lunch onto my tray.

"Not to be rude or anything, but are you a little lost? You seemed really out of it in math class earlier," she commented.

"I uhm…yeah, well I just moved here, and it's a new school for me. I don't know where anything is, and that girl that was seated to my left? Ashley Davies? I had a collision with her early this morning, so now she hates me."

"Don't take it personally, she basically makes it her mission to hate everyone," the girl replied with a genuine smile as my heart skipped a beat. Maybe I'd just made a new friend! One who…didn't hate my guts?

"Chelsea Lewis," she said, extending her right hand out to me.

"Spencer Carlin," I replied, more than happy to oblige.

"So where did you move here from?" she asked, suddenly all interested. I forced myself to swallow the lump in my throat.

"Ohio," I supplied, hoping that she wouldn't ask too many questions. I'd wanted to stay away from bombardments like this. I wanted to leave the past in the past.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" she asked me.

I have an older brother," I told her, trying so hard to tell her as little as possible. Then I decided to turn the tables on her. "What about you?"

"Nope, I'm an only child," she said, suddenly waving someone over in the direction of our table. "Shawn…hey, Shawn!" she called out.

A tall African American male (Shawn?) started towards us. He paused for a moment, examining me before he took his place next to Chelsea at the table.

"Spencer, this is my boyfriend, Shawn. And Shawn, this is my friend Spencer, from math class."

My heart skipped a beat. Friend…she'd said friend! Awesome! "Hi," I told him, and he reiterated the same response.

From that point on, lunch was fun, as long as I knew just exactly how much to reveal to Chelsea, and how much to keep quiet about, because I didn't want to blow my cover. Once the period was over, she even pointed me in the direction of my next class.

And who was standing there just outside the door, waiting to be let in? Of course, it had to be Ashley Davies. The teacher must have been running late, because there was a crowd of people surrounding the door. Once the teacher had come by and let us in, she explained to us that she wanted us to seat ourselves in alphabetical order first, and then she would double-check by using the attendance sheet. She was doing this in an attempt to get us to actually talk to one another.

Without even saying a word, I immediately went and stood next to Ashley. "I'm glad you're finally starting to learn your place in this school," she cracked, a smirk coming across her face. My cheeks burned, and I didn't respond, looking straight ahead at the teacher the whole time.

Eventually, we all thought that we had ourselves situated correctly, and went to sit down in the desks that had been provided for us. After everyone had taken their seats, the teacher glanced over her attendance sheet, seeing if we were correct about the arrangements.

"Spencer Carlin?" she spoke up, and I winced. Of course I would have to be the one to mess something up, especially today. "You are supposed to be sitting between Bryan Barnes and Stephanie Clank, not next to Ashley Davies."

My face burned red with embarrassment. And if that wasn't enough, Ashley just had to speak up. "Yeah, God Spencer, why do you just keep assuming that you sit next to me? What, are you in love with me or something?" Another smirk flashed across that face of hers, only this time, I seriously wanted to punch it in.

I was completely mortified as I took my walk of shame over to my new seat. I sat down and listened to the science teacher start explaining about our first project that was due. She started off calling pairs of students to be partners, and I sat there in my seat, deadlocked, hoping that she would call out any name except…

"Spencer Carlin and…Ashley Davies," the teacher announced. I groaned inwardly. Great, just great. You mean that now I had to actually do a project with this girl? The teacher broke us up into our partners so that we could talk about what we were going to do, and how things were going to be set up…just the basic ideas for a framework.

"Listen," I said to her before she could even open her mouth. "I'll just do the entire project, and you can add your name to it at the end…its fine, I get it. Believe me, I don't want to work with you anymore than you want to work with me."

"Fine," was all she said as a response, clearly dumbfounded that I had actually dared to speak to her first, and had made somewhat of a success in shutting her up, leaving her speechless. "Whatever you say."

"That's what I thought," I shot back. Then I went back to my seat and actually managed to enjoy the remainder of science class.

Towards the end of the day, I noticed that there was a flyer for cheerleading tryouts posted outside of the girls' locker room. I'd been a cheerleader at my previous high school, and it was something that I thoroughly enjoyed, so I texted my father, telling him that I was going to be trying out, and that I would be a little late coming home.

I sat on the bleachers in the gymnasium after writing my name down on a list. I anxiously awaited my turn, somewhat nervous since I didn't really have a routine constructed. I watched girl after girl do cartwheels and splits, the works. Some of them were really good at it, and others just fell flat on their faces.

And then it was my turn. I took a deep breath and went to the front of the crowd. I did a series of arm movements, cartwheels, and splits. The girls who were judging actually looked pretty impressed, so I allowed myself to feel proud. Satisfied with the job that I had done, I took my place back on the bleachers. At the end of the meeting, the girls had come to their final decisions. My name wound up being one of the ones called to join the squad. My heart leapt with joy as I went up to retrieve a set of pompoms and a uniform.

After the tryouts were over, I went back to the girls' locker room and took a quick shower. Then I went outside to wait for the late bus. I was feeling pretty pumped about earning a spot on the squad. As I sat down on the bus, I told myself that this was something that had made my whole, horrible, miserable day worth it. I thought about this for awhile…until I realized that I was the only one left on the late bus, and that the driver was making his last stop.

"You're the last one, little lady," he commented. "Have a nice afternoon."

"You too," I told him, stepping out of the bus and onto the sidewalk. As he sped off, I looked around from side to side. I had absolutely no freaking clue as to where I was. I was officially lost. I must've taken the wrong late bus. At my old high school, there had only been one late bus. But I guess that with a student body of 4,000 students, I should've realized that they would need to be running more than just one late bus. I was mentally kicking myself in the ass and crying as I sat down on the curb, trying to figure out what to do.

Just then, a girl pulled up in this flashy red sports car. The wheels had spinners on them, and the top was down.

"Hey," a voice said. "What's wrong with you?"

I glanced up. Of course it had to be no one other than Ashley Davies. I should have figured, with my luck.

"Just go away," I pleaded with her. "I'm fine. I just got on the wrong bus. Just go home and don't worry about me." With that, I stood up, attempting to start walking in the direction of my house. I honestly didn't know what the hell I was doing.

"Spencer!" she called out, trailing slowly behind me. "Spencer Carlin, you get in this car right now! I'll take you home."

"Thanks, but no thanks," I scoffed, remembering how evil she'd been towards me all day.

"Spencer, come on…" she said, still following me. "Don't make me become the stalker now. Just get your ass in the car. I promise I won't bite."

"Yeah, well I have my doubts after this morning," I muttered, loudly enough so that she was able to hear my comment.

"You must be crazy if you think I'm leaving you in the middle of Los Angeles, California, totally and completely lost," Ashley said. Then she tried once more. "Spencer, just get in the damn car, for Christ's sakes, trailing you is damaging my wheels."

That woke me up. The last thing that I wanted to be doing was spending loads of money on new tires for this chick. So I relented, and when she came to a stop, I got into the car and sat down beside her in the passengers' seat.

"Now where do you live?" she asked me.

"On Main Street," I told her, and she started down the road.

"You know," she said after awhile. "I may be an ass, but I do my own share of the work whenever it's given to me. We could do the project together."

"It's fine," I said. "I know how you feel about me. I'm not a complete and total moron, you know. I understand the fact that you hate my guts. I'm not like, retarded or something."

"Fine!" she spat out angrily to me. "Do the damn thing yourself…and you really know how I feel about you? I just gave you a ride home in my Mustang convertible after finding out that you were the one who spewed all over a school bus this morning."

"The ride was nice," I tried to explain. This girl clearly had me at a loss. One minute she hated me, and the next, she was toying with my mind. Either way, I wasn't too sure that I liked it.

"Here, we're at your damn house…do you recognize it?" she asked, her face filling with rage.

"Ashley, I…thanks for the ride," I stammered. She made me even more nervous when she was pissed off beyond all belief.

"Just get out…" Ashley shot back. "Just get the hell out of my car!"

And I obliged. My father met me at the front door as Ashley sped away.

"So how was your first day at school?" he asked with curiosity. "Did you make any new friends?"

"Something like that," I muttered, before pushing past him to go upstairs to my room. "Just call me whenever dinner's ready."

**Author's Note:** Okay, so here's the deal. I definitely don't own the television show South of Nowhere, or it's characters. I do, however, own my storyline. Reviews, criticism, and ideas are certainly always welcome. If I use even the tiniest part of a reviewer's idea, then I make sure that I credit them in my next chapter's Author's Note. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you will continue to read. Thanks to all of my viewers thus far!


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Later that night, after dinner, as a request of Chelsea, I sat down in front of my laptop to create a MyFace page. It was a really cool website that high school and college students used in order to connect with their friends and classmates and just have conversations about whatever they wanted. Apparently, the website was very popular here in California. Chelsea had one, as did her boyfriend Shawn, so after a decent amount of prodding, I had promised Chelsea that I would create a homepage for myself. I kept telling myself that it would be beneficial for keeping in touch with the few friends that I had had back home as well as the new people that I would be meeting here and making friends with.

The first thing I did was make sure that my profile was set to private. The last thing that I needed was the creepers to start searching for my name and finding me. There were all sorts of different ways in which to customize your privacy settings, and once I felt confident that I had made all the right choices, I read through more of what could be put onto the site. Surprisingly to me, it didn't seem as complicated as I had first expected it to be, and it also seemed to be somewhat fun. The only thing that I eventually figured out later was that the website could be somewhat addicting…if you let it be.

There were all different spaces in which you were supposed to fill out the suggested information. Because I wasn't going to be adding just anybody to my list, I decided to be truthful about all of my information, yet still careful enough not to divulge anymore than I wanted to, especially about my past life in Ohio.

The first box available asked me for my name and/or nickname. Because all of the nicknames that were usually given to me were embarrassing, I decided that ~*Spencer*~ would do the trick. I put "Seniors 2007" in the "headlines" box. For my profile picture, I chose a picture of me sitting on the front porch of my old home, with the sunlight catching my hair. Underneath my headline, I told people that I was from Los Angeles, California, and it also read that my last login was today. Beneath my profile picture were the options to view my photos as well as my videos. To the right of all of this information, I typed in my current status as well as my mood, so that people would know what I was up to. For now, mine currently read "Lost in Los Angeles", with my mood registered as being "confused".

Further down the left side of the page were other modules for me to fill out. This contained a box about my interests, favorite movies, favorite television shows, favorite video games, favorite computer games, favorite books, and who my heroes were. There was also the option to create a music playlist; so of course, I composed one of these as well. The last box on the left side of my homepage asked a few questions such as relationship status, religion, sexual orientation, hometown, nationality, and current occupation, just to name a few.

Further down the right side of my homepage, there was a section where I could put blog posts, a section that was "about me", and "who I'd like to meet". There was also a module that showed who my friends were, and who my mutual friends were. So far, the only friend that I had was the creator of the website. The last module was for comments, however no one had left me any yet, because I had to go into a different section of the website and search for my friends.

The website also gave a list of suggestions of others to go to that would provide me with MyFace profile layouts, so that my homepage wouldn't appear to be so naked-looking. I finally chose a cute background. It was light yellow, with pink and green neon hearts on it. I sat back and re-read over my website.

_Not bad,_ I told myself. Apparently I was more computer literate than I had originally thought.

Now that the main framework of my homepage was all set up, I went to the "friend-finder" section, and looked up Chelsea's name first. I was somewhat disappointed to find out that her profile, like mine, had been set to private as well, but I knew that I wouldn't have to wait long until she accepted me. Just as I'd added her as a friend, she came online within five minutes and had confirmed me as a MyFace friend. I smiled when I saw her profile picture. It was a cute one, of her and Shawn sitting together outside. First, I made a comment on her page, saying "thanks for the add!" and then I made a comment on her photo, about "how cute the two of them looked together". When I checked back a few moments later, I noticed that she had written "No problem…welcome to MyFace! I see that you've figured out how to use it!" She'd even added a smiley face to it.

In about another half an hour, I had added pretty much everybody on the varsity and JV cheerleading squads from school. Then, just as I was about to log up, something popped up, saying that I had a new friend request, and a new message. I think that I practically swallowed my tongue whole when I realized who had requested friendship from me. The picture provided me with a clear-cut answer. It was none other than Ashley Davies. At this point, I hesitated. I was definitely torn. I wasn't sure as to whether or not I wanted to add her as a friend yet.

I sat there, staring at my computer screen for what felt like more than an hour. However, shifting my eye towards my computer clock, I realized that it was probably only actually a minute or two. I sighed. Ashley was adorable, but she was definitely feisty when she wanted to be…there was no doubt about that. My fingers literally almost itched. I was curious about the message that had been sent to me as well.

_Okay,_ I decided. _I'm just going to read the message that she sent me, and then make up my mind whether or not to add her, based on that._ Feeling somewhat more sure of myself, I clicked on the option to read the message. Apparently, here's what it read:

_Hey Spence,_

_I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for everything that happened earlier today. I think that we definitely got off on the wrong foot, and I know that it was all my fault. I didn't get to have my morning caffeine kick before you mauled me down, and that definitely made me fly off the handle. _

_I definitely shouldn't use that as an excuse, though. Looking back on it, the way that I treated you was downright horrible, and I can't say I don't blame you for being reluctant to take the ride home that was offered to you. I guess I just couldn't understand how you could be so mean after I'd finally decided to do something nice for you. But I get it now, Spencer. I actually completely understand. It's got to be hard being the new chick at school, and I feel bad for not making your day any better. I shouldn't have been such an ass, and I'm sorry. I also know that saying sorry doesn't make up for all of the things that I said or did._

_My offer still stands, and I'd be glad to help you with the science project…if you'll let me. I know that there are a million reasons right now as to why you shouldn't give me a second chance to make a good impression on you, but I'd really like to start over. Right from the introduction, if at all necessary. I know that you didn't mean to trample me this morning, and you seem like a genuinely nice person. I would like to get the chance to know you…if you'll just give me another try. I know I don't deserve another try, but hey, maybe you'll consider it?_

_Ashley_

_PS: Hey, do you have an instant messenger, an email address, or anything like that? I figure that if you're still angry at me, we could at least work through the science project this way, and keep each other updated. My screen name is AshBee16._

After reading that, I took a deep breath and chewed on my lower lip for about another minute. Was Ashley just messing with my head again, or was she being sincere this time? I'd noticed that there was a blocking option on MyFace to stop the creepers from contacting you, so I decided to just go with it and add her as a new friend. Then, realizing that she was probably still online, I logged onto my instant messenger and added her as a contact buddy. When it showed that she was still registered as available, I sent her a quick message.

_OhioQT: Hey Ashley. This is Spencer._

AshBee16: I kinda figured. So you got my message?

OhioQT: Yeah, and I'm willing to start from the beginning again if you are. My day has been like a whirlwind of shit so far. I'd be more than happy to flush all of those memories down the crapper.

AshBee16: Thanks! It really means a lot to me, you giving me a second chance.

OhioQT: Don't mention it. No…seriously, don't. Like ever. Again.

AshBee16: Fair enough. So, you're Spencer Carlin? I'm Ashley Davies.

OhioQT: Really now? Did you forget that so soon?

_AshBee16: Of course not, you loser. We're starting over from the introductions, remember?_

OhioQT: Oh, that's right, I forgot. So…have you lived in LA for your entire life?

Ashbee16: Yup. My mother has never found a good enough reason to move away. How about you? Lived in Ohio for all your life?

OhioQT: Yes…well, up until recently, I guess you could say. You know, I think your mother might have been one of the people to drop off a casserole on the day we first moved in.

AshBee16: Somehow I doubt that. She's not really the casserole-making type. She doesn't even make me dinner, let alone for other people.

OhioQT: Oh…might be wrong then, sorry.

AshBee16: So tell me what life was like in Ohio. Is Cedar Point as awesome as they all say?

OhioQT: Definitely, as long as you have someone fun to go with, My brother Glenn seems so tough, being a basketball star and all, but he's really a chicken. He hates roller coasters and all of those fun spinning rides.

AshBee16: Ha-ha. Well, maybe we could go hang out there sometime. I'm a fan of all the 'fun spinning rides'. 

_OhioQT: I'd rather not._

Ashbee16: Why not? 

_OhioQT: I'm just…done with Ohio. I guess I've just been there too long or something like that. I don't have any desire to go back there anytime soon._

Ashbee16: Didn't you have any friends back in Ohio?

OhioQT: I had a few close friends, but we all fell out. The rest of my friends were more like acquaintances.

AshBee16: Why the falling out?

OhioQT: Well, sometimes, people just suck. You know what I mean?

Ashbee16: Yeah, I understand. You know what? To hell with them. Not wanting to be friends with you? That's their loss.

OhioQT: Hey Ashley…can I ask you a question?

AshBee16: Sure, anything. Ask away.

OhioQT: This is going to come out sounding so wrong.

AshBee16: I'm all ears. It's fine, trust me.

OhioQT: How come you don't really have any friends?

Ashbee16: What?! You mean we're not friends now?!

OhioQT: You know what I mean, Ashley…and you _said__ anything…come on, fess up._

AshBee16: Because I don't trust people easily…like at all. And because Maddison Duarte spread a rumor around the whole school last year, telling the entire student body that I was a lesbian.

OhioQT: So…is the rumor true?

AshBee16: Hey, hey, hey. That is so not fair. My turn to ask a question first.

OhioQT: Alright, hey, chill out. Go for it.

AshBee16: Is what your MyFace profile says true? Are you really a lesbian?

OhioQT: Yes, I am. Is that going to be a problem?

Ashbee16: Now, now, don't get all defensive on me, Carlin. I was just asking. Of course it doesn't matter. I support, 100%,

OhioQT: Which brings me back to my original question…is the rumor true or false?

AshBee16: It's true. I'm a raging homosexual.

OhioQT: Lmao.

AshBee16: It's not really that funny.

OhioQT: Ehh, it kind of is.

AshBee16: Okay, it kinda is. You know what, Spencer? You're okay.

OhioQT: Thanks Ashley…you're not too bad yourself.

AshBee16: I always stop for coffee in the morning so people don't have to experience 'scary Ashley'. Care to join me tomorrow?

OhioQT: Hmm…well, it sure would be nice to pick up some coffee with you instead of hurling all over the bus again. People will probably remember me for doing that for the rest of the year now.

AshBee16: I'll pick you up at 7:00 am?

OhioQT: Sounds like a plan to me. You know where I live.

AshBee16: That's right…who's the stalker now, Carlin?

OhioQT: Probably me…I've got skills.

AshBee16: Or so you think. Can we get together after school tomorrow to work on that science project, or are you busy?

OhioQT: I have cheerleading practice after school, but then I have nothing important later on. You could drive back home when you're done for the day and I'll just catch the late bus home. I know which one I'm supposed to be on now.

_AshBee16: Well, I'm not going to take any chances on that one. I'll sit through the stupid cheerleading practice. Maddison will hate it…it's perfect._

OhioQT: Uh huh…so what you're really saying is that you'll be sitting up there in the bleachers just so that you can look at all the hot chicks bounce around.

AshBee16: Ah, damn it, you caught me. Lmao.

OhioQT: No watching me bounce around, now.

AshBee16: I'm not making any promises on that one, Carlin.

OhioQT: What do you mean by that?

AshBee16: Nothing. Go to sleep, loser. I'll be at your door bright and early tomorrow morning.

OhioQT: Wait, no…what do you mean by that?!

AshBee16: Goodnight, Spencer.

**AshBee16 has now logged off.**

"Damn it!" I said out loud in frustration. I re-read our instant messaging conversation over and over again. I was pretty sure that she had been flirting with me. We were officially on better terms now, so I decided that depending on how she acted towards me tomorrow (after she'd consumed at least half of her coffee), I would act the same way back to her. Two could play at this flirting game, if that's what was going on here.

And secretly, deep down inside, I hoped that was what was happening. When she wasn't being all scary, Ashley Davies was a pretty easy person to get along with. Not to mention the fact that she was basically drop-dead-gorgeous. Before I went to log off, I checked my MyFace information all over again. I noticed that I had a new message in my inbox that was waiting for me. I clicked on it to open it.

This one was from Maddison Duarte. I started to smile when I realized that the captain of the varsity cheerleading squad had messaged me. But as I scrolled further and further down the page, it only seemed to get worse.

_Spencer,_

_I noticed that you seemed to have listed yourself as a lesbian on your MyFace profile. I personally feel that this was not a very wise decision on your part. Many of the cheerleaders on the squad, namely myself, feel more than just a little uncomfortable with the fact that a lesbian has joined our group at school. We feel that it is a disgusting, frightening, and unnatural prospect._

Now don't get me wrong Spencer, I certainly do not take pride in being a homophobic person. I do, however, take pride in the cheerleading squad that I help to run at school. And I won't stand for anyone who's a fag to remain on my squad. I just simply won't have it. There are no dykes allowed on either the varsity or JV squads at school.

So basically, what I'm trying to tell you is that you pretty much have two choices. Your first option is probably the easiest way to go about things. Just stop being gay. Find the straight path for life, and you'll be allowed to participate on the cheerleading squad. Option two is for me to cut you from our team. If you want to go and be a dyke, then you, by all means, please feel free to…just not on my time…and certainly not on my squad. I own this squad. I'm not going to have someone as vile and nasty as you going and screwing things up for the rest of us.

Maddison

I was shaking by the time I was finished reading the message on MyFace. My face started flushing a deep red color, and I could feel my entire face getting hotter. I double-checked my inbox. Did she seriously just send me that message? She couldn't possibly have…oh wait, she did. I pinched myself once, just to make sure. Yup, there is was, plain as day, in black and white.

My hands were shaking as I attempted to type up an appropriate response. On one hand, I wasn't even sure why the hell I was bothering answering her, but on another, I felt that I should be able to stand up for myself. One thing that my parents had always taught me was not to be ashamed for who I was. Even though I hadn't told them about my strong attraction to girls yet, I was pretty sure that they would have some words for Maddison after reading a message like this.

_Maddison,_

If you think for one second that I'm just going to sit by and…

Nope..that wasn't it. Damn…

_Maddison,_

While I am glad you took the time to share your opinion with me, I don't believe…

Oh hell no. if I was going to seriously respond to this email, then that bitch was going to get served.

_Maddison,_

_You know what I say? I say that it's okay to be gay. I think that you should just mind your own damn business for once. You can take your own opinions and shove them up your ass for all I care. Who the hell are you to tell me what I can and cannot be. You don't have the power to overthrow me, Maddison. Only God has power…and God creates certain people to be gay. If you can't handle the fact that I like to eat a pussy instead of just petting one, then screw you. I'd like to know when the last time you got any ass was. Maybe if you did every once in awhile, then you wouldn't be such a little bitch._

Oh, and another thing…you're not kicking me off of the varsity cheerleading squad. I'm turning in my pompoms tomorrow morning. I quit!

_That's right…I just went there. You just screwed yourself, dumbass…you know I'm good at what I do. And yes, that can be taken in a couple of different ways._

_Spencer_

This was just supposed to be a practice angry rant email. I originally meant to delete it as soon as I was finished writing it. But by the time I had finished, I was so upset and filled with rage that I reached over for the mouse and clicked "send" without even giving it a second thought….that is, until after I had done it.

_Holy shit…did I really just do that?_ I went back and checked my "sent" messages.

Yup, there it is, plain as day…God, school tomorrow is going to be another interesting day. Why do I seem to have a habit of doing this to myself? Someone…please just tell me why.  
I logged off of my computer and got ready for bed. As I closed my eyes, I tried to calm my nerves by not thinking about the angry hate mail that I had just sent to Maddison Duarte. Instead, I surprised myself by starting to think about Ashley Davies picking me up tomorrow morning for coffee.

The funny thing is…just thinking about that little adventure was able to make me fall asleep with a smile on my face._  
_  
**Author's Note:** Okay, so here's the deal. I definitely don't own the television show South of Nowhere, or it's characters. I do, however, own my storyline. Reviews, criticism, and ideas are certainly always welcome. If I use even the tiniest part of a reviewer's idea, then I make sure that I credit them in my next chapter's Author's Note. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you will continue to read. Thanks for all the reviews thus far! For this chapter, as you can plainly see, I ripped off of Myspace and Facebook in order to "create" MyFace. So original, I know. Sorry, Myspace :( Sorry, Facebook :(


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Shit!" I said out loud to the empty bathroom. I had just turned off the shower and stepped out, briefly toweling myself off before wrapping the linen around my body. The doorbell had rung downstairs, and that could only mean one thing…Ashley was here…and early.

"Oh sure Ashley, she's just upstairs. First door on your left," I heard my father's muffled voice telling her. Then I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. "Damn it!" I exclaimed under my breath.

"Hey Spencer, are you almost ready to…uhm no, I guess you're not. Shit, why didn't your father tell me that you were still in the shower?" she asked, clearly embarrassed. "I'm just gonna…yeah…open the door and get me when you're ready, okay?" I watched as her tanned face slowly started to turn a pale crimson color as she retreated from my bedroom and sat outside of my door.

Laughing, I finished getting ready to the point where I at least had put my clothes on. "It's okay, you can look now," I teased after opening the door back up. "Come in here anyways. I want you to read a couple of things, actually. You can do it while I get my hair all ready."

"Okay," she replied, reluctantly sitting down on the edge of my bed. I grabbed my hairbrush and my curling iron, and then handed over the two MyFace messages to her…first the one that Maddison had sent, and then the one that I had "accidentally" sent back to her. I then proceeded to go through the rest of my daily routine.

"Oh my God, did you really write this to her?!" Ashley asked, seemingly impressed. When I could only muster a brief nod, she laughed out loud.

"Spencer Carlin, you just might be the most amazing person that I know," she said. "You made me laugh before I've even had my morning caffeine kick."

I mentally slapped myself in the forehead. "Coffee…right…sorry, Ashley," I apologized. "I'm ready."

"You don't want to do your makeup?" she asked. She'd seen me put down my supplies after I looked at the clock.

"You know what? I'll just do it in your car," I told her. "Trust me, I won't spill. Unfortunately, I'm an expert at this sort of thing."

"Alright," she replied with a shrug. "Let's roll."

We were driving along in tired silence towards a Jim Thornton's when Ashley finally spoke up.

"Spencer, I'm sorry I saw…I mean…you in a towel…I…" she sputtered helplessly, not quite knowing what to say.

I laughed. "Ashley, it's fine. My brother has walked in on me loads of times before. It's not big deal. My father, too. There's no privacy in my family, I swear to God. Don't even give it a second thought." Then I paused, just for dramatic effect. "You know, unless you want to." I could feel my cheeks burning bright red even before I put on my blush.

When the car finally grinded to a halt outside of the coffee shop, Ashley turned the engine off, taking a moment to look at me. "Those things…you know, that Maddison said? Are you going to be okay today?"

"I'll be fine, don't worry," I told her. _Jesus, Spencer Carlin…lies, all lies._

"Don't lie to me, Spencer. I don't like it when people lie to me."

"Okay, well then, yes…it might be a little awkward and uncomfortable today at school." I positioned my eyes away from her and stared out the window instead. Now this was something I wasn't used to. I wasn't accustomed to sharing my feelings with others. I always kept them bottled up inside of me.

"Ashley's going to shut up now and go in to get some coffee. You coming?" she asked, referring to herself in the third person, and realizing that she had made me feel fairly uncomfortable.

"Sure," I said, opening the passenger door and climbing out of the vehicle.

"What do you want to drink?" she asked me, once we were inside, looking at the menu displayed before us.

"I was thinking about a caramel latte. But Ashley, I'm paying for my own drink now."

"No you're not. You're accepting an apology drink."

"You really don't have to, you know."

"I know…you told me last night. But I want to, so will you let me?"

"I guess so…this time. Tomorrow is my treat, though."

"Deal," she agreed, and then proceeded to order two caramel lattes and two plain bagels with butter.

"Sorry we couldn't stop and sit down to eat," Ashley apologized once we were both in the car, balancing drinks and bagels up front.

"It's okay. It's more than okay. I know it's my fault anyways. I hope I don't make us late, Ashley."

"Look at me, Spencer. Do I seem like the type of person who's seriously going to care if we miss those first crucial minutes of homeroom? Please!" she scoffed.

"And if Maddison gives you any trouble today at school, you just let me know, okay?" Ashley requested of me, before we walked through the doors of our school.

"Why, are you going to try and beat her up? What kind of a lesson will that teach her?"

"Well, it'll definitely teach her not to mess with my friends," Ashley shot back.

"You need to shut up and sip your coffee," I warned.

Somehow, the two of us made it in time for homeroom, with about thirty seconds to spare. Even though the bell hadn't rung yet, the teacher still glared at the two of us as we took our seats.

The day was going fine, right up until lunchtime. After receiving a few strange looks from Shawn and Chelsea, they agreed to let Ashley sit with us. We were all just eating, talking, and taking a breather from the regular routine of school. It felt nice and pleasant…that is, until Maddison and her pompom flinging posse showed up.

"Ooh look, Spencer actually had the nerve to show up for school today," Maddison crooned evilly. "How nice."

"Don't talk to me," I shot back, pretending to be uninterested in her. "I'm enjoying my lunch."

"Yes, I can most certainly see that. Now tell me Spencer, is this your little lovebird that you're sitting with here?"

"No," I said forcefully.

"Oh really, then what is she?" Maddison challenged.

"Her friend!" Ashley spat out angrily. She jumped out of her chair, accidentally knocking it over in the process.

I have to admit, that did actually shock me. Even though she'd been sitting next to me for the whole time, it still surprised me to hear her to jump in with such anger and rage filled in her voice. Well, you know…anger and rage that wasn't caused by me, I guess.

"And just what do you think you're going to do about it?" she asked, looking up at Ashley with interest. "You honestly think that you can beat me up?"

"I honestly think that I can give it a try!" she snarled, raising a fist and starting the whole fight.

From then on, the rest was kind of a blur. Fists were actually flying. Well, Ashley's, at least. Maddison fought like such a girl. You know what I mean…hair pulling and bitch-slapping. All I know is that by the end of the entire brawl, Maddison's nose was bleeding, she had a fat lip, and a black eye. She looked like she had been deflated, probably because Ashley had delivered a harsh knee to her stomach.

At this point, her boyfriend (whom I later found out was Aiden Dennison) came walking towards us. For a minute I was absolutely terrified that he was going to start screaming at us, or beating up Ashley…something like that. Instead, what he said was:

"Great job, Ash…you know, she's had it coming for a long time." Maddison was still standing there, crying and staring at him in utter disbelief. So was I, minus the whole crying thing.

"What do you…what are you…huh?!" Maddison sputtered angrily. "Why the hell are you taking her side?"

"Maddison, you need to learn that people have feelings, regardless of your sexual orientation…and that you can't just go around treating people like they don't matter. You were being a downright bitch, so why wouldn't I take Ashley and…and…" he paused, looking at me for help.

"Spencer's," I supplied for him.

"And Spencer's side," he finished, flashing the two of us a very knowing grin. "I've even let you push me around for too long, Maddison, so I can't say that I'm surprised Ashley had the guts to stand up to someone like you."

What secretly amazed me even more was that the staff in the lunchroom didn't even seem to want to have anything to do with the whole situation. So that means that somewhere, deep in the back of their minds, they had known that Maddison Duarte had had it coming to her soon enough as well.

A few hours later, Ashley was standing at my locker, waiting for me to shove all of my things into my backpack. "So…there's really no cheerleading practice today, huh?" she asked me, thoroughly interested.

"Why the hell should I even waste my breath on them?" I muttered, somewhat unhappily. Unfortunately, Ashley had picked up on that. God, she didn't miss anything, did she?

"It bothers you that you're not going to be able to cheer, doesn't it?" she asked me softly, looking down at me apologetically.

"No, I honestly couldn't care less," I replied.

"Remember what I said about lying, Spencer…" she warned me. But she didn't make me correct myself as we went off to find her car in the parking lot.

The ride to my house was completely silent. I swear to God, you probably could have heard a pin drop through all of the layers of the atmosphere. After she parked in front of my house, she cut the engine and unbuckled her seatbelt.

"Something's bothering you, Spencer," she said quietly. "And it's not just the fact that Maddison knows you're a lesbian and that you're off the team. It's something more than that."

"Great, so now you think that you know me, " I spat back.

Well, I certainly would like to try, if you'd just give me a chance," she suggested.

"You don't even know the first thing about me!" I finally exploded.

"Spencer…calm down," Ashley prodded. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to upset you. I…"

"You really want to know all about my life, then fine, here goes. Do you have any ideas about the real reasons as to why we moved here?!" I spat out angrily.

"You don't have to tell me," Ashley told me softly. But by this time, I was too far ahead to turn back now.

"My father cheated on my mother with someone from his old workplace. I walked in on the two of them when I came home sick one day from school. After he lost his job, he got really depressed and angry…and drunk. If you say the wrong things when he's drunk, then you're really in trouble. You get slapped, punched, hit, kicked, thrown across the room into bookcases, or your hair pulled, and you don't get a choice as to which one happens. My mother is up there somewhere on her own little fucking cloud of I don't know what, totally oblivious to all of the chaos that surrounds her, and she seems to think that there's nothing wrong. Then again, she's always working double shifts at the hospital, so she's never home. My older brother Glenn is addicted to pain killers, and as many times as he's tried, he just can't seem to kick the habit. And my other brother Clay…" I was interrupted by Ashley, looking up at me with interest.

"You have another brother?" she asked, hoping that this would change the subject and calm me down. Little did she know that she had just asked completely the wrong question.

"Had," I spat back angrily. "He died in that gun-shooting back at my high school in Ohio."

"You can stop now," Ashley said softly. "It's okay…I really don't need to know anymore."

"Look what all of this does to me!" I blurted out. I pushed back the leg of my jeans, revealing several scratches and cuts, some of which were noticeably deep. "See them all, Ashley?" I practically screamed. I started pointing all of them out to her. "These are from Maddison and her hurtful letter. These are from my father, the last time he got drunk. And these…" I pointed at a third set of scratches, realizing what they were from, so I automatically shut up.

"What are they from, Spencer?" she asked me. "I seriously want to hurt every single person who has ever made you do this to yourself."

"These…" I said, with my voice shaking now, "are from you."

"From when I was…oh my God…" Ashley said, staring at the slash marks. Then she immediately looked away from me, avoiding any means of eye contact.

"This is why I don't tell people!" I yelled. "They just don't understand! And once I do blow up in someone's face, they can't even bear to look at me!"

With that, Ashley whipped her head around, staring me straight in the eye. "Spencer…" she said. "I'm sorry I didn't look at you. It's a little uncomfortable to deal with, but if you ever need someone to talk to, or…"

"I don't need your pity!" I hissed, nearly whispering now.

"It's not pity," she replied, appearing as though I'd just slapped her clear across the face. "It's an honest offer, and it's completely genuine. I don't like seeing anyone hurt, Spencer…especially you."

"Right," I snarled, not sure whether to believe her or not.

"Spencer, are you in counseling or something? I mean, because it seems like you've really got a lot to deal with…more than I can help you with."

"Of course I'm in counseling," I told her. "You should've seen me back in Ohio…it was about a million times worse than this. I still don't sleep all the way through the night. I wake up like three or four times. I can't even eat properly. I throw up after each and every meal…and that's without sticking my finger down my throat."

I noticed Ashley shiver at the comment I'd just made.

"Aren't you glad you've gotten to meet the real me?" I sneered. I opened the passenger door of the vehicle and stepped out. "Come on, we've got a science project to do."

Once the two of us were up in the safety of my bedroom, Ashley finally spoke again.

"I'm glad I got to meet the real you, Spencer Carlin,' she told me in a quiet voice. "I wouldn't change it for anything else in the world."

"So anyways, the periodic table of elements," I started, trying to change the subject. I was suddenly very uncomfortable with the fact that I'd just divulged my life story to someone I'd only met just the other day. I concentrated on the table that was laid out before me, trying not to cry.

"Spencer?" Ashley asked me softly, noticing that I was finally starting to break down.

"What?!" I asked, getting in her face again. But then after I stopped biting my lower lip, it quivered. I choked back a sob, but then I remained unsuccessful. It was as though a giant dam had broken from inside of me.

"Oh Spencer," Ashley crooned, pushing the science materials out of her way. She came over gathered me up in a hug, just sitting there, and waiting for the tears to stop.

And it definitely seemed to take quite awhile. The tears flowed freely now, and fast. I was completely embarrassed, and I just couldn't seem to stop. Ashley was sitting there the whole time, stroking my hair, rubbing my back, and telling me that everything was going to be okay. And by the end of it, I almost wanted to believe her.

"Spencer," she said, once I'd been reduced to just sniffles once more.

"Huh?" I asked.

"The next time that you feel like…like this," she supplied. "You just come and talk to me…about anything…really. Even if I don't understand, I'll always be there to listen. Because it's so much better than you doing this to yourself," she said, pushing back my jeans to reveal all of my cuts and scars.

I shivered, just looking at all of them. Had I really done that to myself? God, what the hell was wrong with me?

"We'll find a way for you to be able to eat properly. I don't know what exactly yet, but we'll figure something out. And if you ever can't fall asleep at night, or wake up from a nightmare and you can't fall back asleep, then you just give me a call, and we'll talk until you're feeling better. Maybe you'll eventually be able to fall asleep for an entire night, and it'll do you a world of good." Ashley said, scribbling her cell phone number down on a sheet of paper.

"Ashley?" I said when I could finally speak once again.

"Hmm?" she asked, moving forward to stroke my hair once again, and push the disheveled mess out of my eyes.

"Thank you," I told her honestly. "You're the only one who's actually ever stuck around to hear the whole story before."

"Anytime, Spencer," she answered truthfully.

"Let's get back to work on the chemistry project," I suggested.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I mean, are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah," I said, putting on the bravest face that I could muster.

I could only hope that I was doing a good enough job of convincing her as well as myself.**  
**  
**Author's Note:** Okay, so here's the deal. I definitely don't own the television show South of Nowhere, or it's characters. I do, however, own my storyline. Reviews, criticism, and ideas are certainly always welcome. If I use even the tiniest part of a reviewer's idea, then I make sure that I credit them in my next chapter's Author's Note. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you will continue to read. Thanks for all the reviews thus far! And just in case you couldn't notice...Jim Thornton's is supposed to be equivalent to Tim Hortons. Haha, wow...I'm so lame. It is also important to note that although Spencer appears to be "normal", she actually isn't. She is (well, was) pretending to be absolutely fine, because she doesn't (well, didn't) really want others to know about her past. Just wanted to clear that up! :)


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

I woke up in a cold sweat for the third time that night. It was Thursday…or Friday morning, really. The palms of my hands and the bottoms of my feet were coated with sweat, and I was shaking all over. Despite the fact that the cold sweat had given me the chills, my face felt as though it were burning red. I rolled over and glanced over at the telltale clock again, and held back a groan. It was only 3:30 am. How many more times was I going to wake up like this? It actually almost made me not want to even go back to sleep. If I wasn't so dead tired in the first place, and if I didn't have school in just a few hours, I probably would've opted to stay up.

_If you have any type of a nightmare, or even if you just need to talk, Spencer, you just go ahead and call me. I honestly don't even care if it's the middle of the night._

I struggled to sit up in bed and search for my cell phone, which had, apparently, fallen off of the nightstand during one of my restless frenzies. I held the electronic device in my hands for a good five minutes, trying to decide whether or not I should call Ashley. Her words played over and over again in my head like a broken record. But then again, I knew that she was probably just saying it to be nice. Plus, she was probably sound asleep. Why should I bother calling and waking her up with my problems?

And then I remembered the three strikes rule that I had implanted in my head. This was the third dream of the night, so that had to mean something. I was extremely superstitious. After fumbling around in the dark for a few moments, I found the slip of paper that Ashley had written her phone number down on. I shone my cell phone light on it while I dialed, mentally kicking myself in the butt each time that I head the other end of the line ring, and she didn't pick up.

Eventually, a sleepy voice answered at the other end of the phone. I felt a mixture of joy and remorse at the sound of Ashley's worn out voice.

"Hello?" she mumbled, clearly out of it.

"Ashley, it's Spencer," I said. "I…if this is a bad time…I know I just woke you up…I can call you back in a few hours. I'll be seeing you for coffee anyways." I stammered, finally feeling stupid about choosing to call her.

"No…wait, Spencer? Hey Spencer…it's fine. I told you that you could reach me whenever, and I'm really glad you listened. Just give me a few seconds to wake up, okay?"

"Are you sure this is okay?" I hesitated. I felt horrible about doing this to her. The entire school was going to be in for experiencing angry Ashley tomorrow, and I would be the cause of it.

"Spencer, I promise you, it's okay. It's more than okay. What's going on?"

"I just…I had a bad dream…actually, my third one of the night…and I'm not sure if I want to go back to sleep or not. I'm scared of having another nightmare."

"You're going to go back to sleep," she said firmly, yet gently at the same time. "You're going to go back to sleep, because the both of us need it. But you need it more than me, so I'm just going to talk to you until you fall back asleep."

"Okay," I agreed, with a yawn.

"Spencer, why didn't you wake me up after the first bad dream? You might've talked to me earlier and then slept through the entire night."

"Well, I guess we'll have to try that strategy another night," I replied. "I'm sorry…I just didn't want to be rude…I feel bad enough waking you up now."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone. "Spencer…after you woke up the other two times and decided not to call me, you…I…you didn't…?" she stammered, her voice trailing off into the distance.

"No, no, nothing like that. No new cuts, I promise you," I answered truthfully.

"Good," she replied, letting out an unmistakable sigh of relief. "So…do you want to tell me what your bad dream was about, or am I going to have to guess on this one?"

"It was just basically me dreaming about the whole gunshot scene all over again," I said, not really wanting to elaborate. "I mean, I was in lockdown when Clay had been shot, but I guess my unconscious mind is making me imagine how everything was going on from beyond the closed door." I shivered, and pulled my blankets up closer to me.

"Aww…what were the other two about?" she asked quietly. "If you don't mind me asking?"

"Well, one of the other ones was about my father getting drunk off his ass and abusing me. That was definitely a frightening one too. You know, because when I woke up, I could literally still feel where I thought the pain was, from the dream?"

"And the other one?" she asked. I could tell that this whole ordeal was making her feel uncomfortable. God, I hoped the rest of our friendship didn't go on like this. What kind of a friendship would that be if the only thing we did together was make each other feel uncomfortable?

I blushed, thinking about what I had dreamed about earlier. That wasn't really a bad dream at all, even though it had left me in a cold sweat, and it took awhile for my mind to focus again afterwards.

"I…I…" I stammered, somewhat unsure of what to say.

"It's okay…you know you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Ashley told me. "But it would be nice, considering the fact that you woke me up at 3:30 in the morning." I swear I could hear her grinning on the other end of the phone line.

"It wasn't a nightmare, actually…it was the furthest thing from it. I uhm…I had a dream about you," I revealed, instantly wanting the beat the shit out of myself.

"Hmm…was it a good dream?" Ashley asked. I could tell by the sound of her voice that she was smirking now.

I swallowed hard. "Uhm yeah…pretty good, actually," I replied.

"And what was the dream rated?" Ashley pressed on, just to tease me some more.

"I would have to say PG-13," I told her, as a blush crept across my face. I knew full well that I was lying to her, but I didn't need her to know the real rating. She'd never be able to tell that I was fibbing over the phone anyways, would she?

"I don't think you're telling me the truth, Spencer," she said quietly.

_Well now, damn it all!_"Maybe it was more like rated R," I admitted, somewhat ashamed of myself.

"Uh huh…that's what I thought," Ashley replied softly. "And what was happening in the dream, Spencer?"

"I uhm…well….you…I…we were…" I stammered, clearly at a loss for words now.

"Uh huh?" she said, but it was definitely in the form of a question. "Go on," she requested.

"How is this helping?" I protested.

"You'll see," she replied in a husky voice that I'd never heard her use before.

"Well…we were uhm…making out, and you started to slip one of your hands underneath my shirt…" I continued, still not believing that she was making me tell her all of this, in detail.

"So do it," came the response.

"Excuse me?" I asked, suddenly extremely flustered.

"I just thought of the perfect way to make you fall back asleep, Spencer. I'm going to make you pass out. Just do whatever I tell you to."

"Okay…" I said, still uncertain of how this was going to work. I can honestly say that I'd never had phone sex before. At least not up until now.

"Put your free hand underneath your shirt…touch one of your breasts," Ashley requested of me. Even though she couldn't see what I was doing, I did as I was being told.

"How does that feel?" she asked me.

"Nice," I replied, feeling my face turn bright red again. I really needed to learn to stop blushing so easily.

"That's good…now why don't you just keep doing that while you tell me some more about this dream that you had," she suggested.

"Well after you were done fondling them, you took one of them into your mouth at a time, sucking them, and pinching at them until my nipples got hard," I said, as I felt my breathing start to pick up.

"Lick one of your fingers, Spencer…and rub it around your breast. Pinch your nipples a bit for me. Are you doing that?" she asked after a minute.

"Mhm…" I said, my voice trailing off into the distance.

"Okay…what's next?" she asked.

"You were kissing a trail down my stomach to my bellybutton," I said.

"Alright…so I want you to take your fingertips and run them down the middle of your stomach," Ashley requested, and I was more than happy to oblige.

"How does that feel?" she practically purred to me through the phone.

"It tickles," I remarked, feeling chills run down my spine. Was I seriously doing this right now?

"What happened next?" she prodded me.

I blushed, even though she couldn't see me. "I have a feeling that you already know what happened next," I told her. I felt myself start to drip through my panties.

"Spencer, take off your pajama pants," she told me, her breathing becpming more ragged.

"They are off…I just took them off…I'm getting wet," I told her.

"That's good…now touch yourself…don't take off your underwear yet…just touch yourself through the fabric." I did as I was told, and I wasn't able to hold back a gasp.

"What's happening?" she asked in a somewhat teasing tone.

I moaned. "Ashley…"

"What's happening, Spencer?" she prodded.

"Mmm…so wet...fix it, Ashley," I requested of her.

"I can try. Alright, take off the underwear," she practically demanded of me.

Needless to say, they were off in a flash.

"Now start to gently touch yourself," she instructed me. "Just simple things…draw a circle around your clit."

Ths simple action elicited another moan from me. "Ashley," I groaned out loud.

"What, Spencer? Tell me what you want," she requested.

"You," I said, breathlessly. My hips and thighs were starting to feel as though they were on fire.

"It's probably because of all that stress that you've been under. I'm going to try to fix that. Maybe if you get some sort of a release, maybe it will relieve some of that pressure," she told me.

At this point, of course I was going to listen to just about anything that she said.

"Spencer, you can really touch yourself now…just dip one finger in though...in and out…slowly," she told me.

I did as I was told, and my breathing started to pick up even more. "Now add a second finger," she instructed, and I followed her direction, moaning all the while.

"Alright, Spencer," she told me. "We're gonna go faster now."

And I obliged. Soon my hips had picked up on the rhythm, and they started bucking against my hand. My moans were filling the room.

"Need…more…" I panted out.

"Go a little harder," she encouraged. "Deeper, maybe?"

"Oh God…" I moaned out, feeling my face start to flush with color. "Oh...oh…"

"Was I doing anything else, Spencer?" she asked me in the sweetest voice that she could possibly muster while being incredibly turned on herself.

"You put..your head…between…and…and licked…" I said, moaning all the while. Great, now I couldn't even form a coherent sentence.

"Then picture it…imagine it, Spencer…my head between your legs, my tongue between your slit, licking up and down…" she teased playfully.

"Oh fuck," I managed to gasp out. "I need to…I need…I…" my voice trailed off into the distance.

"Tell me what you need, Spencer. What do you need?" she asked me innocently.

"I'm gonna…so close…" I stammered.

"Are you gonna cum for me, Spencer? Are you gonna cum for me hard?" she prodded happily,

"Yes," was all I managed to moan out that time.

"Then do it, Spencer…let go for me."

"Oh God…oh…oh Ashley…holy fuck!" I screamed into the phone. The orgasm had hit, full force, and I was finally riding out all the waves of tension that had been built up for quite some time now.

Once the tremors were over, I still heard Ashley's voice coming through the phone, but it sounded as though it were from a faraway place. It probably had something to do with the fact that my heart was pounding somewhere behind my ears.

"Good night, Spencer," was the last thing that I heard before I crept under a blanket mixed with unconsciousness, yet sheer bliss.

**Author's Note:** Okay, so here's the deal. I definitely don't own the television show South of Nowhere, or it's characters. I do, however, own my storyline. Reviews, criticism, and ideas are certainly always welcome. If I use even the tiniest part of a reviewer's idea, then I make sure that I credit them in my next chapter's Author's Note. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you will continue to read. Thanks for all the reviews thus far! This is so not how I expected this chapter to turn out, by the way. Yikes! I'm honestly not usually one for sex scenes. Haha.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The next morning, I awoke to realize that I was completely naked under my bed sheets. Rubbing the remnants of sleep from my eyes, I sat up and looked around my room, somewhat in shock. And after I sat there for about a minute, it started to hit me. Everything was coming back to me now…Ashley, the phone call in the middle of the night…well, morning, really. Even though she wasn't here in the room with me right now, I wrapped my sheet around me self-consciously. I kept replaying the mental tape over and over again in my head. Did I seriously do that last night? Did I really give in to Ashley, and did we have a moment?

Ashley came to pick me up for coffee on the way to school, and she was all smiles. Since she was all excited even before she had caffeine inside of her, I knew that it had to be true. I groaned inwardly to myself. Why had I let something like this happen? I was somewhat ashamed of myself. The ride to Jim Thornton's this morning was based solely upon total silence.

Once the two of us were finally seated back in her Mustang with our lattes and our bagels, Ashley turned to look at me.

"So we're not even going to talk about it, huh?" she asked me softly. I could tell by the tone in her voice that she was somewhat disappointed. And I can't say that I blame her. She had every right to be.

"I…Ashley…look…" I stammered, instantly wanting to shove my foot up my own ass. I hadn't wanted this to be awkward for either of us, but here I was, making things complicated once again.

"What?" she asked, clearly exasperated. I'd like to think that the tone of her voice was a little harsher than she had intended it to be.

"I...well, first of all, I want to thank you for last night," I said, fumbling with my words. "But I…Ashley…shit…"

"You don't have to explain it to me, I'm pretty sure I get it," came the cold response.

"No…please?" I asked, laying a hand gently on her shoulder.

She shrugged, so I continued on.

Last night…was really nice…and helpful…and fun…but I…Ashley, I've never done…with anyone I haven't dated. Hell, I've never even done that with anyone I ever have dated. It's…just new to me. I don't want you to feel like you did anything wrong," I reassured her. "I'm just not normally that type of person. I like taking the time to get to know people…that's all. And I just moved here, and I'm trying to get my life back into order…and I like you Ashley, you're just going to have to trust me on that one. I really, really like you…quite possibly more than any other girl I actually ever have dated. But I don't know if me getting involved in a relationship right now is something that I'll be able to handle at this point in time."

Instantly, Ashley's face shot up from her jeans and she was looking me directly in the eye. "Spencer…I hope…I mean…look, it was never my intention to make things more confusing for you, and I didn't mean for our little episode last night to hurt you in any way. I want you to get better, and I want you to take as much time as you need, doing whatever it takes. I completely understand that what you need right now is a best friend, and I can wait…believe me, I'm more than willing to. I can play the best friend card until you feel comfortable with the prospect of dating. It's perfectly fine with me."

"Thank you," I responded, feeling relieved that she had somehow managed to understand the inner workings of my twisted and psychotic mind. "And if it makes you feel any better, you really did help me last night. I feel much…lighter…today," I commented, allowing a small smirk to creep slowly across my face.

"Well, hey, I mean, that's what friends are supposed to do for each other, you know…help each other out," she replied.

I mock-glared at her. "Don't you even start getting any ideas, Ashley Davies. I'm going to have to be helping myself for awhile first."

"I know, I know," she said. She brushed the crumbs off the lap of her jeans. "Ready for school?"

"I suppose so. How many more days left of this again?" I asked.

"Until June 30th." She replied, slamming her car door shut and coming around the other side to open mine.

It wasn't until lunchtime that I remembered what I'd wanted to ask Ashley earlier. There was a dance tonight at school, a welcome back dance. I'd seen flyers around the hallways all week, and once she and I had gotten on good terms, I'd meant to ask her to go with me…as friends, of course.

"So Ashley, there's this dance at school tonight…" I started off.

"Absolutely not," came the instant reply. "No way, no how."

"But Ashleyyy!" I protested. "Shawn and Chelsea invited me to go with them tonight."

"So then what's the problem? What are you going to need me for?"

"Shawn and Chelsea are dating, Ashley. I know that they invited me just to be nice, and I don't want to tag along and be a third wheel," I whined, doing my best puppy dog face that I possibly could.

Ashley chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully. "You really want to go to this dance, huh Spencer?" she asked me. She studied my face for a moment. "You seriously do, don't you?"

"Yes! Oh come on, Ashley, please don't make me go all by myself. Chelsea and Shawn are going to be dancing with each other all night long. I don't want to be one of those girls that stands up against the gymnasium wall the whole time, just waiting for someone to ask." I pleaded.

She studied my face for about another minute before reconsidering, but not without a groan.

"Ugh, fine! I'll go to the stupid dance with you, Spencer," she said. But she was smiling. She didn't even pretend to hide it. And that made me feel good.

After I'd gotten home from school, I spent a good portion of the afternoon getting ready for the school dance tonight. I put on a red strapless semi-formal dress, a pair of black strappy sandal high-heels, and put my hair up in curls, allowing a few to fall down around the frame of my face. I painted my fingernails the same cherry red color as my dress, and made my eye makeup dark and smoky looking.

And then the doorbell rung. My heart skipped a beat, knowing who it was. I gave myself a final check in the mirror before turning around to walk out of my bedroom and down the stairs to the first story of my house. The appearance of my mother standing there in my doorway honestly scared the crap out of me.

"Big night tonight, huh Spence?" she pondered, giving me a once over.

"I don't know, Mom. It's going to be fun, I don't doubt that, but it's not like any boys are going to want to dance with me."

"Why not?" she asked with a gasp. "Spencer, come on, you don't know that!"

_Well, after all, I __am__ gay, Mom._

"Yeah, maybe you're right. Who knows what could happen?" I smiled cheerfully at her, giving her a kiss on the cheek before exiting my room. "You don't have to wait up for me," I told her honestly.

"But then again, you know I will be!" she called out as I practically ran down the stairs to meet Ashley. With the kind of luck that I've been known to have, my father was probably already starting to grill her. Imagine what would happen if he only knew how much I really liked her. I shivered a bit, just thinking of that thought.

"All ready?" she asked me, rising to her feet. At least my father was hospitable. He'd even let her have a seat in his chair. And if you have any idea what my father is like, then you know that no one except for him is usually allowed to sit in his chair.

"I'll have her back by 12:30, Mr. Carlin," she told my parents. "The dance ends at midnight."

"You don't have to worry about that," my father responded, taking the opportunity to wink at me.

And that was when my heart honestly leapt up into my throat. I'd never told him about my strong attraction to girls. And I was pretty sure that Ashley knew enough not to out me to my parents, revealing my deepest, darkest secret. So how could he possibly have known?

I smiled uncomfortably in response to the wink, and then before I could even give it a second thought, the two of us were out the door.

"You look so hot tonight, Spencer," she told me once the two of us had gotten into her car. She instantly became aware of the fact that I had seemingly fallen silent. "Hey…is everything okay?" she asked, glancing over at me while trying to keep her eyes on the road at the same time.

I swallowed the lump that had been growing in my throat. "My dad…he knows…" I stammered.

"Your dad knows what?" she asked, trying to take the time to look at me again. This time, a car honked its horn at her, and she flipped him off. It was okay, I guess. I mean, it was dark outside.

"He knows that…he knows that I like girls," I said, clearly all freaked out now. "He knows my secret, Ashley! He winked at me and suggested that the two of us should stay out later. What am I supposed to do now?"

"Hope that he doesn't tell you mom?" she suggested lightly. "Spencer, I know it's a little freaky for you right now, but if he disagreed with the concept, then he would've had your ass right there. He wouldn't have allowed me to kidnap you for the evening. So for now, just try and relax. It's supposed to be a fun evening…even if I do hate wearing dresses," she remarked, looking down at herself and groaning with displeasure. "I swear to God, Spencer Carlin, if I get blisters from these heels tonight, you will be rubbing my feet until they start to feel better."

"Friends helping friends, right?" I asked, nudging her and grinning.

"How long are you going to use that one against me?" she complained.

"For quite some time, I think," I told her honestly. "I kind of like that whole idea."

Ashley groaned. "Spencer Carlin, you are…" she started to say, before I interrupted her.

"Impossible?" I asked, with a smile. "My mother is always telling me that."

"Nope…amazing," she replied, parking the car in the school lot and cutting the engine. "Come on…let's go in, and you can show me how to have fun at one of these things."

I was more than happy to oblige. And as it turned out, Ashley was a really great dancer. She was slender, and that really helped, especially with those songs that involve a lot of dirty grinding or hip action. Maddison was at the dance, but I didn't let it phase me too much. I was here with my best friend, my close friend, and her boyfriend. I was here to have a good time. Aiden had come alone, since calling it off with Maddison, after the whole ordeal in the cafeteria just a few days ago. Because we felt sorry for him, Ashley knew him, and he seemed really nice to me, we invited him to join our group for the night. We even took turns slow dancing with him so that he didn't have to feel as though he were being left out.

Everything was going great until all of the sudden, these high-pitched sirens started going off. They had startled my calm and peaceful nature that I had become accustomed to over the course of the night. I jumped a few inches in the air, even though I was already standing up. I'd assumed it was a fire drill or something like that. Or maybe a bomb threat. We'd had those back at my old school in Ohio.

"Shit…Spencer, get down!" Ashley yelled out, yanking at my arm harder than she had intended to. I looked around quickly and noticed that all the rest of the students were basically rolling up into balls on the gymnasium floor by pulling their knees up to their chests, putting their heads down on their knees, and moving away from the windows and bleachers.

"What's going on?" I asked nervously. "Ashley, I'm scared!"

"Earthquake, Spencer…do what I do," she instantly imitated what everyone else around us seemed to be doing. Because I was still in shock at the thought of having an earthquake, and remained still, she grabbed me, opened her legs, and put my butt between them. The two of us sat like that on the floor, and she wrapped her arms around all four of our knees, hugging them as tightly as she could.

"Put your head down," she ordered softly. I felt her lightly drop on the upper portion of my back.

When she'd said that, I immediately seemed to come back to life. I listened, and made it so that my head was staring at the gymnasium floor.

"Maybe it's just a drill," I said, hoping that this was the case. I'd never experienced a "real" earthquake before, and I wasn't sure that I was ready to.

"They wouldn't do a drill during a school dance, Spencer, now please just shut up!" she hissed. Normally I would've been pissed that she had used that tone with me, but then I quickly realized that even though she'd probably experienced this many more times than I had, she was still scared. And so I did as I was told, and I shut up.

And then it started…the shaking. It probably only lasted between 30 seconds and a minute and a half, but it felt like hours. I'd never felt anything quite like it before. It felt as though you could hear it. When I heard the rumble of the gymnasium lights starting to sway, I looked up fearfully.

"Head down, Spence!" Ashley screamed.

"But…" I sputtered, noticing that the one light was dangerously about to fall. And I knew right then what I had to do. Twisting out of Ashley's firm grasp, I rolled around, pushing her out of the way, without a second thought.

It had to be milliseconds later when that light came crashing down. Thankfully, aside from shattering glass, only one end of it had landed, full force, on my right ankle.

I was shaking with fright when Ashley turned around to look at me, her mouth forming an "o" shape. "Spencer, are you okay?" I heard her ask.

I winced, trying to get my ankle out from under the debris. "My ankle," I moaned.

"Just hang on," she whispered to me, leaning over to kiss the top of my forehead. "We have to wait until they tell us that it's safe to move again."

I nodded, unable to speak.

"Spencer, I owe you one, you know that? You really saved my ass there." Ashley praised me. I smiled, trying to focus on the appraisal rather than the pain. But Ashley didn't miss a beat. She noticed me wincing once more.

"Everything's going to be alright," she told me. "Just breathe, Spence."

I did as I was told, and tried to focus on the task at hand. Throughout the gymnasium, there were countless pairs of eyes focused on me. And at that point in time, I didn't even really care, to tell you the truth. I'd done the first thing that had come to my mind on such sort notice, and I can't deny that I was proud of my decision.

**Author's Note:** Okay, so here's the deal. I definitely don't own the television show South of Nowhere, or it's characters. I do, however, own my storyline. Reviews, criticism, and ideas are certainly always welcome. If I use even the tiniest part of a reviewer's idea, then I make sure that I credit them in my next chapter's Author's Note. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you will continue to read. Thanks for all the reviews thus far! My apologies for the next series of chapters being more cutesy than sexy! Ha-ha!


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Come on Spencer, you can do it. Just let go!" Ashley prodded, trying to be helpful.

No, you sick perverts. We weren't engaging in phone sex again. Ashley had learned her lesson about that one. On the contrary, it was now two weeks after the earthquake incident had occurred. Luckily, I had managed to escape with only a sprained ankle. It was recommended that I hobble around on crutches for a full two weeks before attempting to walk successfully on my own two feet again.

It's surprising how fast you can become accustomed to something. I can't believe I was only on crutches for two weeks, and I that I became so dependent upon them. I had attempted to take my first step without them, but I could feel that my ankle was tender from not having to move. Just to be safe, I'd taken that first step with the help of only one crutch, and it was a good thing that I had, or else I would've fallen flat on my face…or maybe my ass. I knew that Ashley wouldn't have laughed at me, but it still would've been embarrassing.

"I can't do it!" I protested. Despite the fact that my ankle was supposedly healed, it still hurt a great deal. I've never been one to have a high pain tolerance, so this whole ordeal was very frustrating for me.

"You can, Spencer…I'm telling you that you can, and you've got to trust me," Ashley prodded. "Let go of that stupid crutch. I promise you, you won't fall. And even if you start to teeter, I'm right here to catch you."

I stood there for a moment, stubbornly. "Come on," Ashley urged. "You can't spend the rest of your life on those crutches. We've got all weekend to practice your walking before school starts up again on Monday. Maybe we can get you down to a dignified limp or something."

"Ha-ha," I replied irritably. The amount of painkillers that I had been on had been lessened as well, so maybe that also had something to do with it.

"Just once, Spencer, that's all I'm asking. To the wall and back, and that's it."

"Fine," I muttered, throwing the remaining crutch to the ground.

I wobbled unsteadily on my feet. Ashley was trailing right behind me, ready to catch my elbow just in case anything happened. It hurt like hell, but by the time I had limped back to where I'd originally started, I felt somewhat proud of the feat that I had accomplished. I almost fell once, but Ashley didn't even have to reach out for my arm.

"See?" Ashley pointed out, smiling triumphantly. "There's a dignified limp already! I knew that you could do it!"

"Yeah, more like a dignified duck or penguin waddle," I muttered under my breath.

"Okay you, what gives? Stop with the negative attitude already!" she ordered. She paused for a moment, appearing to be deep in thought. "Hey…I know!" she exclaimed happily. "I know what will make you feel better. I'm going to go and pick up some Chinese food and rent a couple of movies from Blockbuster. We'll have a girls' night. It'll be fun."

"Alright," I agreed. "Let's go. I made a slow movement towards the front door so that we could go out to her car.

"No," she said, putting her hand up. "You stay here, and go sit on the couch. We've made progress, so we don't want you to over-work that ankle." I limped over to the sofa as I was told, and she flashed me one of those winning smiles of hers. "I'll be back in a flash," she replied, shutting the door behind her.

I watched her through the window as she drove off. My mother was working a night shift at the hospital that evening, and my father was going over to one of his friends' houses to play some card game…poker, or pinnacle, or something. He was just about to head out the door when I stopped him.

I took a deep breath, considering whether or not I should talk to him about the fact that he had found out that I was gay or not. I swallowed the lump in my throat, and somehow forced myself to speak.

"Dad…I…how did you know that I'm…attracted to Ashley?" I asked, wincing as I said it. With my luck, the wink that he had given me the other night was simply just my imagination. And if that was the case, then I was never going to be able to live this conversation down.

"Spencer, I've known since the first day you brought her home," he told me. "No one had to tell me anything. A good parent just knows. I see the way that you look at her. It's the same way that I used to look at your mother."

I nodded. "And Mom?" I asked worriedly.

"Well, it's up to you when you want to tell her, but I'm not going to. I know what your mother is like, Spencer. She's not very…homosexual-friendly, if you catch my drift. It doesn't bother me though. As long as I can see that you're being treated right, and that you're truly happy with whoever you're dating, then I'm very happy for you," he revealed, giving me his condolences.

"Thanks!" I told him, giving him a giant hug. "That reminds me…is it alright if Ashley comes over for awhile? We're just going to have some Chinese food and watch some movies in my room."

"It's alright with me," he replied, patting me on the shoulder. "Is there anything else that you needed to tell me?"

"Yeah," I told him with a smile. "Go and have fun at your card game." He kissed the top of my forehead and nodded, saying goodbye and walking out the front door.

A half an hour later, Ashley arrived at the door, with Chinese food, a couple of movies, and popcorn in hand.

"Well, you look happier," she noted as she set the food and movies down in front of me. "Wait…did you take more of those painkillers?" she asked skeptically.

"No!" I exclaimed. "Jeeze! No, I was just talking to my father before he left to go and play cards with his buddies. He fully supports our relationship!" I told her happily. "I feel so much better after talking with him."

"Well that's great, hun," Ashley said encouragingly. "But…our relationship? You mean, as in, there is one?"

"I'd definitely like there to be one in the near future," I told her honestly, my smile only getting wider.

"Wait…so does your mother know too, or?..." she asked me.

"No…my mom doesn't know yet. My mom can never know, Ashley. I'd get kicked out of the house."

"You mean your father wouldn't back you up on this one?" she inquired.

"I don't think so. My mother tends to wear the pants in our family," I replied. "Which is really funny, considering the fact that she's never around, and yet she still has this great deal of power over all of us."

The two of us sat down on the couch in my bedroom and Ashley popped in the first movie, which was a romantic comedy, I knew that she'd chosen this movie for me, because she hates cheesy films like this. Needless to say, I was more than happy to snuggle up next to Ashley under a blanket, consume Chinese food, and watch a chick flick with her.

Once the first movie was over, Ashley went downstairs to pop some of the popcorn. When she came back up, she found me looking through the other movie choices.

"See anything that you like?" she asked.

"Any of them…you pick," I suggested, secretly hoping that she wouldn't choose the horror and gore flick. She knew that I personally couldn't stand those types of movies.

To my surprise, she put another romantic comedy into the DVD player. "You should've picked a movie that you like, Ash," I pointed out.

"I like any type of movie that I get to watch with you," she revealed, playfully tossing a piece of popcorn in my direction. It hit me square in the nose.

"Hey, what was that for?!" I protested, feigning anger. "That wasn't nice!"

She shrugged, a grin coming across her face. "I don't know…I just felt like do it," she responded.

"You…are…the most…" I started to say, before my voice trailed off into the distance. Ashley was looking at me with a considerable amount of intensity, and our lips were only inches apart.

For a moment, I hesitated. I knew that I wanted Ashley, and I was well aware of the fact that she liked me just as much back. So then what on earth was my problem? I chewed on my lower lip with uncertainty. Was I really ready to get involved in a relationship right now? Had I been through enough therapy sessions so that my head was on at least somewhat correctly? I took a deep breath. This was my chance. I had to suck it up and take it. With that, I leaned closer and planted a soft kiss on those beautiful lips of her. A kiss, which to my surprise, she returned.

"The most what, Spencer?" she questioned breathlessly after the two of us had pulled away from one another.

"The most amazing person I have ever met in my entire life," I told her honestly, looking her directly in the eye. I paused for a moment, trying to gather all of the thoughts that were floating around in my head. "Ashley Davies, will you please do me the honor of being my girlfriend?" I finally asked her.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, on the verge of squealing like a little girl, but then quickly redeeming herself. She looked down at me seriously, interlocking her fingers of one hand with the fingers of one of mine.

"Spencer?" she questioned quietly.

"Mhm?" I asked. Now I felt different. I felt…completely happy. Not to mention proud of myself for having the balls to ask her such an important question.

"Are you sure that you're ready for this?" she asked softly. "You're not going to go back on your word now, are you?"

"Ash, I'm ready for this," I told her. "I wouldn't have asked otherwise. I want you, and only you, to be my sweetheart."

The two of us leaned in, gently kissing on the lips again once more. All of the sudden, we were interrupted by my bedroom door swinging open and slamming harshly against the wall, the doorknob making a hole in my wall.

"What the heller' you doing?!" My father asked with drunken interest.

"We're just watching movies, Daddy," I replied, hoping that a normal conversation would keep his actions under control.

"Really, because it looks more like the two of you were busy playing tonsil hockey here on the couch," he remarked, noticeably slurring his words.

"I uhm…Ash, you should go…" I sputtered with embarrassment. This is all I needed right now, my new girlfriend seeing my real family in action.

"Nuh-uh," she replied, with her feet firmly planted on the ground below her. "I'm not going anywhere, Spencer."

"Maybe you should listen to what the little girl says," my father suggested to her. "Maybe you should just go. She wants to spend time with her daddy."

"Maybe you should stop being such a drunk bastard!" she replied. She was standing behind me at the time that she said it, and my father reached out to take a swing at her. He would've hit me first…if Ashley hadn't gotten there first.

"Spencer, look out!" she exclaimed, putting herself in front of me, nearly knocking me to the floor because of the lack of balance that I had standing on my injured ankle.

"Spencer, don't you want to play with daddy?" my drunken father crooned. Ashley turned around to face me, wondering why on earth he was talking to me as though I were a small child.

"N…no…I don't w…want to," I stammered. "I never wanted to!"

It was then that I could've kicked myself in my own ass. No one had known about that secret, not even Ashley. She didn't miss a beat. She glanced into my eyes.

"He's…you've…he's forced you to…?" she asked, unable to construct a full question.

"He's done this to you Spence, hasn't he? Fucked you up in the head, I mean?" she asked softly. I stood there, not exactly knowing what to do or say.

At that moment, I felt completely naked. I'd just exposed my full self to someone, and instead of feeling as though a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders, I felt scared and frightened. I was afraid of what Ashley would think of me, now that she knew the whole story. Would she still want to be with me, or would she decline now, because someone else had gotten there first?

"You disgusting, sick, fucking bastard!" she screamed at my father. "You are the most nasty and vile person that I have ever met in my entire life! You stay away from her, do you understand me? If you do so much as to hurt one single hair on her body, I swear to God, you will never sea the light of day again!" she proclaimed.

My father, although drunk, seemed taken aback by the harshness of her voice, and started to slowly back out of my bedroom door. Once he'd gone into another area of the house, Ashley immediately slammed my bedroom door shut and locked it.

"Come on, Spence!" she urged, rummaging around for bags and my luggage set. "We're gonna get you out of here!" she tossed a duffel bag in my direction, which I robotically started to fill.

By the time that my room was all packed up and we were ready to go, my father had passed out on the living room couch. Ashley and I loaded the things up into her Mustang, and sped off in the direction of her house.

She cut the engine once we arrived at her house. Then she turned to face me. "Do you want to talk about it? We have to talk about it," she told me, letting me know that I wasn't off the hook yet.

"Not tonight," I requested softly. I had too much excitement for one day.

"Okay," she reconsidered. "We'll have a discussion tomorrow instead. Come on, let's get you situated."

She came around the car and opened the door for me to get out. The two of us started hauling in bags and boxes and luggage sets worth of my entire life thus far. Her younger sister Kyla noticed us on one of our trips into the house.

"Spencer is moving in with us," I heard Ashley telling her.

"Does Mom know about this?" Kyla asked.

"Not yet. What the hell does it matter anyways, she's never around," Ashley pointed out.

"Doesn't she have some sort of home to go to?" her sister asked, probably not meaning to be snotty.

"Not a good one," I heard Ashley reply softly. "She's much safer over here. Come on, Ky, help us with the rest of her stuff," she requested.

And Kyla obliged. The three of us spent the better portion of the night unloading things from the Mustang and bringing them into Ashley's huge mansion of a house.

During my last trip outside to bring a handful of stuff in, I stopped briefly to look up at the stars. Everything was just fine and dandy…for now. What was going to happen when my father recovered from his hangover and came looking for me tomorrow? I shivered, just thinking about it.

"You coming in?" asked Ashley, interrupting my thoughts.

"Yeah," I replied, taking one more glance up at the stars before entering my safe haven. "It's been a long day."****

Author's Note: Okay, so here's the deal. I definitely don't own the television show South of Nowhere, or it's characters. I do, however, own my storyline. Reviews, criticism, and ideas are certainly always welcome. If I use even the tiniest part of a reviewer's idea, then I make sure that I credit them in my next chapter's Author's Note. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you will continue to read. Thanks for all the reviews thus far!

I may not be able to update as frequently for awhile, because I have a project to do for one of my college summer courses, where I read and respond to 35 different children's books about various historical figures. The class is over on July 23rd, but I hope to be done long before then.


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